A returning hero
by NomadicOne
Summary: Set after the events of HotU. The hero of Neverwinter is returning reluctantly to the place of his adventures began, joined by a soul once lost. Rated T in case of future chapters Mixes storylines a bit to give continuity.


A/N: Just had to get this out of my system, been hiding in my poor deranged mind since I've beat NVN and the expansions. Ahem...I don't own the rights to the game or the company...if I did I wouldn't have shafted the characters or made sequels that were sequels in name only, no matter how good or well written they were. (CONTINUITY!)

Sent by the gods

The man stood at the prow of the ship, leaning easily on the sea worn railing that lined the prow. His slender frame handled the rolling of the sea with experienced legs, though the twin long swords on his back denoted him not as sailor, but adventurer.

His deep emerald eyes scanned the trackless horizon, though his thoughts were far from the sea.

"You a'right mate?" asked one of the deckhands, bringing his wandering mind back to the present.

The man smiled as he turned to face his unexpected visitor. Since boarding the ship some days ago, the crew had seen fit to give him all the space he wanted. "Yes, I'm fine. Just lost in my memories. It's been some time since I've sailed these waters...or walked the lands." he added with a wistful smile.

The sailor nodded, examining the man closely for a long moment. "If y'don mind me askin'..." he began, his expression turning curious.

The man shook his head, the smile hardening. "Yes, I'm the one called the hero of Neverwinter...the Savior of Waterdeep and the bastard son of too many other tales to count." he said dryly.

'Being a hero isn't all it's cracked up to be.' he thought darkly, memories once more assailing him of a time when trying to find the right path proved beyond his means.

A few years prior, in the throne room of Lord Nasher...

He walked from the portal, bloodied and weary, but triumphant. The guards scattered at his approach, unsure of what to expect to come from the broken crystal. As he drew near, they rushed to his side, praises to both him and the gods that he'd succeeded.

He nodded his thanks, gratefully accepting the assistance as he walked up the stairs to see Aarin Gend and Lord Nasher to report on the success of his conflict within the Source Stone.

The dark skinned professional clasped his forearm, "You are a true hero my friend, we are all in your debt." he informed the wounded adventurer.

"Indeed, you have shown us valor and courage above any that we've seen before." gushed the older man, though his steps were still sure and powerful as he approached.

He smiled at them, a weight lifted from his shoulders at their praise. "Thank you both, it was my honor to serve the city and the realms." he replied modestly.

Lord Nasher nodded enthusiastically at him, "I will hold a grand feast in your honor, a feast that shall extend to all that have survived here in Neverwinter." he proclaimed, motioning towards one of the many men at arms that served at his beck and call.

The man looked around the throne room as he was led to a bench seat. He pulled out a dark green flask and pulled the stopper, draining the contents as he made a face at the taste of the liquid.

"It'll keep you alive but..." laughed Aarin, shaking his head in sympathy.

The man smiled sourly in return, replacing the now empty flask and pulling his wineskin. Taking a deep pull of the rich fruity wine within, he offered it to the protector of Neverwinter. "I've found that it goes down better with help from nature." he said.

Aarin accepted the skin and took a hearty drink as well. Wiping first the opening of the skin, then his mouth, he handed it back. "Aye, that's true." he agreed, his face falling suddenly.

Putting the stopper back into his skin, the man waited, neither daring to speak what was on their minds. Finally, Aarin sighed and looked over his shoulder to where Lord Nasher was giving directions to his men at arms.

"I know you wish to hear of the fate of the trai..." he began, checking his words as the man on the bench glared harshly up at him. "I mean Aribeth." he finished.

The man crouched before him, elbows resting on his knees so that his dark eyes could meet the deep emerald of the adventurer that had saved them. "His hands were tied, you must believe that. Once it was discovered that she was held here..." he trailed off, his lips setting into a thin line.

He could see the regret that Gend had, it was clearly visible in the man's eyes and face, though it did little for the cold rage that was now creeping up on him. "Tell me what happened, you owe me that much." he said, his tone much harsher than he'd wanted to use with his friend.

If it offended Gend to be spoken to in such a tone, he didn't show it, but rather continued in a subdued voice. "I tried to salvage what I could, but the crowds were calling for her blood...just as they did for Fenthick. In the end, Nasher simply succumbed to the pressures of his subjects...she was executed privately last night." he told his friend softly.

The man's body went numb, his limbs stiffening at the news. A part of his mind screamed that it wasn't true, not after everything that had been done, everything he'd gone through. His head slowly turned to regard the smiling older man as he happily prepared to celebrate the salvation of his city.

Gend reached forwards and grasped the man's forearm as he saw him grow pale, then a deep red as the outrage started to take him. "Don't. This isn't the time nor the place." he warned, trying to reach the man that he'd come to rely on.

He looked back to the pleading look of the sworn protector of the city, a post once held by the woman he'd fought so desperately to save. Now she was dead, executed for events beyond her control. The bile in his stomach lurched upwards at the thought of the crowds of people screaming for her death, just as they'd done before. Wanting so desperately to blame someone, anyone for their troubles.

The same crowds that had cheered him, supported him and put him upon a pedestal had unwittingly killed the woman he'd grown to love. With a dark sound deep in his throat he turned back to look at the hypocrite that had orchestrated it all. After all the discussions, the arguments, he'd still made the same errors.

The man stood, jerking his arm from the grasp of Aarin, sending him off balance to fall to the floor with an oath.

Without truly thinking his actions through, he'd crossed the room and had the old ruler up off the floor, his fists bunched together under the man's chin, hands full of robes.

"You doddering old idiot! Haven't you learned anything?" he shouted, giving the man a violent shake, his eyes wide with anger. He tossed the man backwards into his throne, his swords pulled so fast they seemed to have appeared within his hands by magic.

He glowered at the guards as they broke from their stunned state and pulled weapons on the man. "Don't even think about it." he told them, giving a shrill whistle.

The air around the man's feet seemed to thicken then coalesce into a small shape. As the clouds faded quickly they revealed a badger, it's hackles standing on end and it walked towards them stiff legged. "Grux...no." he called, making soothing noises to his companion.

Grux the badger grunted back to his friend, then growled at the guards before reluctantly walking back to settle near the feet of his master.

"You insolent fool! Do you have any idea..." sputtered Nasher, gripping the arms of his throne in anger, the fingers going white with the pressure he was exerting.

The man didn't even turn to look at him, the sword in his right hand flicking out and taking a chunk from the arm of the chair...directly between the man's fingers.

Nasher gave a startled cry and jerked back his hands, looking at the man before him with outright fear.

"What are you doing Ceril?" shouted Aarin, holding his hands in a placating manner as he spoke to the now hostile man. He walked slowly forwards, "Think about what you are doing." he said.

The man called Ceril glared darkly to Aarin, "I want her body Nasher. Give me that as my reward for saving your worthless hide and cesspool of a city." he said, meeting Gend's eyes but speaking to Nasher.

Aarin's face showed his surprise at the request, "You don't understand..." he began, only to be silenced by a command from the ruler of the city.

"That is enough! I will not allow you to take her body Ceril...no matter what good you've done. She cannot be allowed to walk these lands again for the crimes she's committed." he decreed, drawing a look of incredulity from both men.

Ceril shook his head at the old man, "Don't make me do something I'll regret Nasher. You admitted to me that you'd made a mistake with Fenthick, don't let the same fate befall Aribeth." he said, his tone level.

Nasher slowly shook his head, "I'm afraid that I can't do that Ceril...I'm sorry. Justice HAS to be followed. Even she understood this. Do not disgrace her by thwarting the will of Tyr like this." he said softly, realizing that if the man had wanted him dead it would have happened by now.

"He's not my god and you're not my lord. I ask you once more Nasher...give me the body of Aribeth de Tylmarande." he said, turning to face the lord of Neverwinter fully.

The man looked tired, aged well beyond his years as he met Ceril's eyes. "No. I cannot." he said quietly.

Ceril's eyes hardened, the knuckles on his hands going white with rage as he gripped the pommels of his swords. A muscle jumped on his face, giving him the look sneering at Nasher.

The silence was thick as the tension rose, the guards slowly moving to take flanking positions on the dangerous ranger. "You're not worth it. Neverwinter has no hero now. I don't care if your city turns into the breeding grounds for a thousand orc generations, I won't step foot into this abomination of justice again." Ceril spat at the man, breaking the long silence.

His swords made a hissing noise as he slammed them back into the scabbards. Nasher's face went white with anger at the proclamation, though he didn't have time to speak. Ceril's mailed fist smashed into the man's nose, sending him crashing back into his throne, face bleeding as he slipped into unconsciousness.

The guards made to rush Ceril, only to be halted by Aarin Gend, "NO! Stand down. I will escort the man from the city." he said firmly, turning to take a non-resisting Ceril by the upper forearm.

They spoke little as the crowds cheered them, too ignorant of their actions to realize the man they cheered despised them. As the massive gates swung open, Aarin extended a hand to Ceril, the ranger clasping the offered forearm.

"I'm sorry Ceril, I didn't want it this way." he said, nodding. "But you cannot return. Lord Nasher will be quite irate when he wakes up. Justice must be served." he said, his tone level as he banished the hero.

Ceril smiled distantly, "I don't blame you my friend, never did. I won't be back until the old fool realizes his mistake...and even then it's a long shot." he said, releasing the arm and walking from the battered city into the wilds of the north.

Back aboard the ship...

Ceril shook his head and laughed along with the man he'd told the tale to. "So ya popped the ol'dodger? That's mighty rich mate!" the man howled in laughter.

Ceril shrugged, "It wasn't one of my wiser moments and has come back to haunt me on more than one occasion, but it sure felt right then." he explained.

The deck hand clapped him heartily on the shoulder, "Ye've got a set o'brass one's mate, I'll give ya that." he said, sauntering away back to his duties.

'The only difference between bravery and foolhardy is forethought.' he told himself, remembering his adventures after leaving Neverwinter.

Ceril remembered with fondness running into his old companions in Waterdeep, though the circumstances weren't ideal.

He watched the sunlight playing on the waves, a direct contrast to his thoughts which at the moment were once more back within the depths of the underdark and the civil war he'd been drawn into.

He shook himself from the dark memories, though a beautiful face came with the memories. Ceril had found a kindred spirit in Nathyrra, though she was dark elf while he was a surface elf. They struck an unlikely alliance that had started to blossom into something more, even if both of them didn't want to admit it.

Ceril found her methods cruel and atrocious, just as she thought his to be soft hearted and weak. They'd managed to find a happy balance, each giving in recognition of the other and everything they'd been through.

Then things had gone to hell, literally. When he'd discovered how badly he'd been used, his anger threatened to overwhelm him. He'd saved both Nathyrra and Valen from horrible fates, his conscious not allowing him to abandon his friends like that.

It was during his search for a way home that he'd discovered the one being he'd given up all hope of seeing once more. She was frozen, her heart and soul lost. Aribeth was changed, her attitudes much harsher then he'd remembered.

It had taken time to reach her, to help her find her way back to herself. Nathyrra hadn't been very pleased at her arrival and had taken every opportunity available to verbally accost the woman turned spirit.

In the end it had taken a firm voice from Ceril to set the situation right, though he could still see the look of pain in her eyes.

"Thinking of the past again my love?" came a melodious voice, followed directly by a set of arms wrapping around his waist.

Ceril smiled and leaned back into the arms of the woman he loved, feeling her cheek resting against his muscular back. "It seems that this trip is taking me to the past Aribeth." he said quietly.

She sighed, tightening her arms around him, "We'll do this like we've done all the rest, together. Tyr willing they will receive us with open arms. If they do not, then I will still follow the path I've been called to by him." she said with conviction.

Ceril's face set at her words, "I'm not so sure that either the citizens nor the ruler of Neverwinter are going to be receptive to us, given our rather personal history there." he said darkly, knowing the outcome of this discussion. It was one that they'd had many times over the ensuing months since defeating and banishing Mephistopheles.

Aribeth released him and took the few steps to stand beside the man she'd come to love and rely on. Her face wearing almost the same expression as his, though she wore a light smile that made her eyes dance. "It's all personal when it's history. We cannot undo what has been done, nor would I wish to given where we've arrived at. Would you?" she challenged him, a fine eyebrow arched as she looked at him expectantly.

He swallowed hard as he lost himself in her deep eyes, enraptured by her haunting beauty. "Ahhhh...that would be NO." he said definitively, placing his hands on her hips and bringing her closer to him.

She giggled lightly at his tone, nestling herself into him against the chill sea spray. "I should hope not. You must trust my love, in us, your goddess and the path laid before us. The gods would not have given us such direction in out lives if we could not handle it." she said, meeting his green eyes with hers.

The sun highlighted her hair, making it sparkle and shine like finely spun copper. Her elegant cheekbones and angular features that denoted her heritage making his heart sing with love and desire.

"I do Ari...I really do. I just don' t like the idea of defending people that had you killed. It messes with MY sense of justice, my own perceptions of good and evil." he said quietly, his face turning back to look at the skies above them.

Her hand reached up and touched his face tenderly, "It isn't our place to dictate justice my love, just to ensure that it's carried out. Beyond that it's OUR choice, and the gods have entrusted us to watch over the people of Neverwinter." Aribeth told him, her eyes showing the depth of her devotion to her beliefs, and to them.

Ceril smiled at her then, leaning forward and kissing her, softly at first, then with increasing passion. It was with pounding heart and breathless anticipation that she broke that kiss, "It wouldn't be seemly to continue this here love, shall we retire to our cabin?" she whispered huskily, eyes shining with love and desire.

He found himself unable to speak, lost in the moment and her beauty, and so was led by the hand back to their cabin. A moment later a small cloud coalesced before the door and Grux appeared. He looked back at the door, grunted and laid down across the entry, standing guard over his master and his love.

Neverwinter, Lord Nasher's throne room...

"You've a lot of gall to come here after all you've done." growled the visibly older man at the couple as they entered, led by Aarin Gend.

Ceril simply raised an eyebrow at the man, "It wasn't MY choice old fool..." he started, only to catch an elbow from Aribeth that stopped his angry reply.

She bowed before the man, "I have returned my lord, and have come to retake my position as protector of my fair city." she said regally.

Ceril folded his arms across his chest and glared at Nasher, as if daring him to insult her. "Our gods have bid us come to the aid and defense of your city." he added levelly.

Aribeth righted and held Nasher with an even stare, showing nothing of her true thoughts or emotions.

"Neverwinter doesn't need either of you nor do we wish your help. I can safely say this city has had enough of the both of your 'help'. No go before I decide to revoke safe passage." he said condescendingly as he waved at them with a dismissive hand.

Ceril smiled darkly, "I don't think YOU understand old man. It's not a choice for you to make. I'm sure you've heard of what we've accomplished over in Waterdeep by now, and if you need proof I can always give my old friend Mephistopheles a call and he'll explain it to you. Having a couple of true names does tend to help." he told the man sarcastically, this time earning him a deep frown from Aribeth.

"What? The guys being an ass." he said defensively, his voice petulant. When she continued to frown, he hung his head and nodded, "Alright, Alright...I'll shut up now." he said, rewarded with a soft smile from the paladin.

Nasher's face showed his disbelief at the couples conversation, "The rumors are true?" he whispered.

Aribeth, looking at Ceril to ensure he was going to remain silent before speaking, nodded at the man. "Yes, we conquered the 8th plane of hell and then defeated the demon lord in the battle of Waterdeep." she replied easily.

"It was shortly after that both Ceril and I were showed a vision by the gods that we should travel here and act as protectors of the city." she explained, trying to maintain a level of diplomacy.

Nasher shook his head, "It would never work Aribeth, the people will always view you as the traitor." he said stubbornly, though much of the fire had left his voice.

Ceril smiled and spoke up before she could, "That's easy enough to fix. They don't have to know about us. I sure as hell don't want to stick around inside this place. Give us a land grant inside Neverwinter Forest and we'll live there." he told the man.

The smile he got from Aribeth both surprised and pleased him, and he ended up smiling in return to Lord Nasher, like a child that had just answered a difficult question by guessing and got it right.

The old man buried his face in his hands, "And if I refuse?" he asked them.

Ceril smiled tightly, "You don't have a choice. Either way we're going to be here. So either you accept it now and endorse us or you look like a fool when we keep on doing the hero thing inside your lands." he said.

"As blunt as my love is, he is correct my lord. We were tasked by the gods themselves to this mission and will not allow any to stand in our path of it's completion." Aribeth backed up Ceril.

Nasher looked at the pair of elves standing before him, realizing how much they'd grown since the last he'd saw of them. They were formidable on their own but they were now joined by a singular purpose, the defense of his city. Finally he nodded and motioned for his seneschal to approach.

"Make it be known that 100 acres of the deep forest are to be deeded into the name of Ceril Amastama. It shall be a hereditary title as well, as I'm sure that he will eventually desire to settle down." he told them, smiling at their mutual blush at the assumption.

As the seneschal left, the man stood and motioned them forwards, "I have made many mistakes in my years and can only ask that you can forgive an old man his foolishness." he said solemnly.

Aribeth bowed deeply, touched by the man's honesty, "Of course my lord. You followed as you thought was best for your people." she allowed graciously.

Ceril looked at him with harsh eyes, "Mistakes are one thing Nasher, idiocy is another. What's happened has happened and nothing will change that." he said, drawing a look of surprise and shock from both Aribeth and Nasher.

"But you've apologized for your actions, and so it's water over the rocks. I will tell you this, like it or not we're here to stay. We're doing what we feel is in the best interests of Neverwinter...NOT it's ruler. So long as we understand each other things will be fine. The woods now belong to us. We'll act as your eyes and ears in the land, keeping you and yours safe. I'm asking that you not intrude on our sacred duty and we won't impinge on yours." he stated bluntly.

Aribeth groaned and covered her face with her hand, shaking her head while Aarin Gend tried to cover his laugh with a fake sounding cough.

Lord Nasher descended to the man and met him face to face. They stared into the others eyes, neither backing down nor giving hint to their thoughts. He nodded to Ceril, extending an arm to him. "Spoken like a true hero. I would expect nothing less from the man that has traveled to hell and back, much less rescued the heart and soul of Aribeth de Tylmarande." he said.

Ceril clasped the man's arm and finally smiled warmly at him, "I just did what had to be done, and the gods rewarded me for it. Aribeth didn't deserve her fate, who knows, maybe it was Tyr himself that had a hand in my actions." he allowed.

Nasher looked at the man with open surprise, but smiled at the recognition to the patron god of Neverwinter. "Indeed. I shall see to your provisions. Simply let Aarin know what it is you need and it will be provided." he said, turning and walking back to his throne.

Aribeth turned and smiled at Ceril, "Come my love, let's retire for the evening. We've spent too many nights at sea and I could use a good bath." she said to him, then bowing with him as they left the throne room of the ruler of Neverwinter.

Ceril made a face at the thought of staying in the city, "I know of several natural springs..." he said hopefully.

Aribeth smiled demurely as they walked down the hallway, "Yes, but I'm sure they're not heated...or have scented oils." she said quietly, squeezing his hand for emphasis.

He didn't argue any further after her words, the goofy smile and deep blush telling the beautiful woman all she needed to know.

End of Chapter notes...

Okay, now that I've got that out of my system. I left this open ended in case I want to revisit it one day with more adventures for them. By the way, not naming him in the beginning was intentional, added to the whole mystery of it I guess. The main character is a ranger/weapons master, and the one I've used to play in most all the NWN games and the modules. I know I've hacked the storyline here, but I just wanted to say how frustrated I was that you couldn't continue using your original character and have the story recognize that fact. Anyhow, RnR if it moves ya to do so.


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